Smudged Ink and Broken Feathers
by TiTivillus
Summary: Chuck may have stripped them of their health, their luck and years' worth of experience and skills. But there were things that even Chuck couldn't take from them. Hurt/Comfort. Season 15.


**Title:** Smudged Ink and Broken Feathers

**Summary:** _Chuck may have stripped them of their health, their luck and years' worth of experience and skills. But there were things that even Chuck couldn't take. Hurt/Comfort. Hurt!Sam. Hurt!Dean. Season 15._

**Warnings:** Rated T for bad language, mild violence. Spoilers up to 15x10.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the show or the boys.

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"Aww, you've gotta be freaking kidding me," Dean muttered when lightning lit the darkened sky in brilliant streaks all around them. Fog embraced the trees that lined the highway, covering every square centimeter of tarmac in a thick mist and sheets of rain hammered down against the Impala's windshield. They both sat back and stared in abject horror as thunder cracked through the air and rain started pouring from the clouds in an all-consuming torrent, like a river dam broke loose. "I can't believe this sh—"

"Dean," Sam sighed, glancing over at his brother with resigned exhaustion. He rubbed a hand against his forehead, trying to hold his raging headache at bay and failing miserably when his eyes caught the brightness of the oncoming car's headlights. "We're never gonna make it to Alaska at the rate we're going. First the damn car breaks down, now this—" Sam gestured at the flooded road in front of them, at a sudden lack for words.

About ten minutes ago, Dean had pulled over on the side of the road because of a flat tire, only to realize that his mechanical know-how had been vanquished along with pretty much every other set of skills the two of them had acquired through years' worth of training and experience, courtesy of one very ticked-off, vengeful and omnipotent dickhead.

Thunder cracked deafeningly, and the wind moaned around them.

A violent shiver wrecked Sam's body and he turned his head to the side, coughing into his elbow and feeling absolutely miserable.

"Oh, c'mon!" Dean suddenly yelled, slamming his hand down hard on the steering wheel. "Give us a break."

Sam winced, bright pain shooting through his head at the sound of his brother's rage-filled voice. He squeezed his eyes shut in discomfort and a sound must have somehow slipped from his lips because suddenly Dean was there, a cool, steadying hand on the back of Sam's neck, squeezing the tension-knotted muscle there.

Thunder cracked again and the downpour intensified, not showing the slightest sign of letting up anytime soon.

"For all we know," Sam's voice came out raspy and weak. He swallowed against the dull ache in his throat, then tried again. "For all we know this could go on for hours."

Chuck was playing with them.

He wanted them to suffer.

"And you can't even remember how to change a tire."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder, smart ass," Dean snapped, both of their patience running thin after a day full of bad luck and disaster. "You're not so helpful yourself, Mr. I-forgot-how-to-read-a-map."

Sam didn't really know what to say to that, so he just dry-swallowed again, another shiver cursing through his body.

Dean gave him a look and suddenly his shoulders sank, the pinched expression smoothing out into something less rough and more familiar. A softness settled in his dollar-green eyes, a tenderness that only Sam was privy to. Wordlessly, Dean slipped out of his jacket and then draped the body-warm fabric around Sam's middle. Sam's heart gave a sudden, unexpected pang at the warmth that engulfed him, the smell of leather and motor oil that meant safety and home. "Dean…"

Sam reluctantly fumbled with Dean's jacket, trying to hand it back, but Dean wasn't having it.

"Shut up, Sam," he muttered with no real heat in his voice.

"Dean, the heating broke…" Sam complained. "I got my own, man. I really don't need—"

"Just take it."

"But—"

"Sam, I just spent thirty minutes trying to figure out how to change the tire of a car I know inside-out, a car I've rebuilt from scratch too many damn times to fucking count," Dean snapped, his voice rising again. It wasn't Sam Dean was pissed at, but the rage in his brother's voice, the frustration was still tangible and made Sam shift uncomfortable in his seat.

"I know, but—"

"We got 2000 miles ahead of us and a broken car and a whole bunch of credit cards that won't be accepted anywhere, which means no motels, no food, no freaking medicine for whatever the hell you're coming down with. So you wanna do me a favor? How about you take the damn jacket, cause right now, Sam? Right now that's the only thing I've got to offer."

Sam just blinked at Dean in the silence that followed his brother's outburst, the rain hammering against the sleek roof of the Impala in a constant, rhythmical tap-tapping sound. Then he sat up a little straighter in his seat, carefully bundling his large body up in his and Dean's jacket as if to try and prevent any of the cold air to seep through his protective armor of clothes.

"You done?" Sam sniffed, not quite able to suppress his own anger at Chuck or their current situation. When Dean just continued to stare out the windshield at the flooded highway ahead of them, Sam jutted out his chin, knowing full and well that he had Dean's attention, eye-contact or not. "Look, Dean. I know this sucks."

Dean huffed out a snort.

"Okay," Sam tilted his head to the side, rephrasing. "_Understatement._ What Chuck's doing to us is seriously messed-up, but we can't let it crush us, Dean. We gotta… we gotta pull through somehow, okay? I mean we've been through worse, right?"

"Right," Dean huffed out again, not sounding convinced. "And what if he makes us forget how to eat? How to talk?" Dean shook his head. "This isn't like Purgatory or the Darkness, or-or even Lucifer. This isn't just another monster to kill, Sam. It's freaking _God_. And right now, God's taking everything that makes us 'us' and turning it to ashes. I just…" Dean shook his head, eyes shiny in the reflection of the street lamps.

"You just what, Dean?"

Dean looked into Sam's eyes then and Sam's insides clenched with fear at the dark abyss he saw there, the hopelessness. The weariness. Could it be… had Chuck's vision about Dean giving up on him – on their cause – been true, after all?

Sam curled his fingers into Dean's jacket, suppressing another tremor. He coughed again, a painful, dry rasp that made his throat hurt and his eyes water. He opened his mouth to say something, but his lungs contracted again and he hiccuped, coughing even harder than before. Sam hunched forward in the seat, black spots creeping into his vision and then a water bottle somehow magically worked its way into his hands. "Easy, deep breaths."

Sam shuddered when Dean's jacket slipped from his shoulders, Dean picked it up and wrapped it tighter around him before taking the bottle out of Sam's shaking hands and uncapping it for him. The bottle was nudged toward Sam's lips and Sam fumbled with it for a moment before taking a few greedy gulps, soothing his throat. "Alright, not too much or you'll make yourself sick."

Sam closed his eyes and allowed Dean's soothing rumble of words to wash through him. There was a swipe of work-roughened hands on his forehead and Sam had a second to lean into the touch before it was gone again.

"You're wrong, you know," Sam rasped out after a while, eyes fluttering open to the sight of Dean sitting just an arm's length away. The bottle of water was resting in his hands, half-finished and with the cap back on and Sam could tell from his rigid posture that he was probably cold but too damn proud to admit it. And that he'd rather freeze to death himself than to watch Sam shiver. And it was such an idiotic thing to do, but so damn telling about who they were and how their dynamic worked. "About Chuck."

Sam sniffled and ignored the dull, throbbing ache in his throat and the bright, burning white pain in his head and the way Dean gazed out at the rain-soaked road ahead of them like he took personal offence in its presence.

"He didn't take everything that made us 'us'," Sam continued, waiting for Dean to meet his gaze. "There's more to us than lock-picking and driving the car across country. You're more than just a good mechanic, Dean. More than a good hunter."

"Yeah, like what?" Dean said with the usual self-deprecating smile and Sam kinda wanted to punch him for it.

"Like a good big brother," Sam said evenly, not taking his eyes off of Dean's for a second. Then, much quieter he added. "The best."

Dean opened his mouth and then closed it again, visibly touched by the words. He glanced out the windshield then, Adam's apple bobbing. "Looks like Chuck didn't take your ability to initiate a good chick-flick moment."

Sam's smile widened. "He can't change who we are, Dean. And we aren't who we are because of him."

There was a beat of silence as Sam allowed for the words to fully sink in.

Dean eventually nodded, finding new resolve in Sam's hopefulness. "You're right," he said again, this time like he really meant it. Yanking the car door open with the familiar rusty screech, Dean dug a wrench out of the glove compartment and stepped out. He leaned down with his arm propped on the window frame.

"I'm gonna go change that tire now. And then we'll hit a few bars."

Sam let out a congested chuckle. He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You wanna get drunk?"

Dean gave him a million-watt smile and all of Sam's pain grew tolerable in an instant.

"Nope," Dean said, wriggling his eyebrows. "We're gonna make money the old-fashioned way."

"Hustling," Sam snorted.

"Hustling." Dean grinned and patted the hood of the Impala. "Try to get some rest, alright, Sammy?"

Sam didn't have to be told twice. He yawned and settled back against the comfortable leather of the Impala. Even with a congested nose, a blinding headache and a sore throat – hell, even with Chuck throwing hurdles their way, there was still no better place to be than right here, in the passenger seat of the Impala with his brother right by his side and nothing but an open road ahead of them.

**The End.**

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**_A/N:_ **_Thanks for reading, guys! I know I haven't been around much lately, but season 15 is such a big letdown for me. I have zero interest to watch Eileen and Sam run off into the sunset together. We've got 10 episodes left and I find myself watching the Dean&Cas Show and the Sam/Eileen show... I really, really hope the writers will remember what this show was always about and give these characters and us fans an ending they/we deserve. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the read. Sorry for being absent and sorry for the rant! Please drop me a note if you can spare me a minute of your time 3 _


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